


For the First Time in Forever

by iam93percentstardust



Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Frozen (Disney Movies) Fusion, Arranged Marriage, Child Neglect, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Steve and Bucky are Brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: When Bucky thinks about his childhood, he mostly remembers how afraid he’d been.He knows that there were good times—there must have been or else Stevie wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He knows that there were times when they snuck out onto the fjords or into the ballroom, times when he froze the water so Steve could go ice skating or made it snow in the castle so they could build snowmen.But when Bucky thinks about his childhood, he mostly remembers that one fateful night, the night he’d panicked and frozen Steve’s head instead of the ground.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817254
Comments: 27
Kudos: 309
Collections: StarkBucksBingo2020





	For the First Time in Forever

**Author's Note:**

> lo-anlurui said:
> 
> How about a winteriron frozen AU? Inspired by your profile pic haha.
> 
> This took a detour even from the movie and veered into more au territory but hopefully, it's still enjoyable
> 
> Collaborator Name: iam93percentstardust  
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015477  
> Square Filled: N1 - Magic  
> Ship/Main Pairing: Winteriron  
> Rating: T  
> Major Tags & Triggers: Childhood Neglect, Hopeful ending, Movie Fusion  
> Word Count: 1804  
> Summary: When Bucky thinks about his childhood, he mostly remembers how afraid he’d been.
> 
> He knows that there were good times—there must have been or else Stevie wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He knows that there were times when they snuck out onto the fjords or into the ballroom, times when he froze the water so Steve could go ice skating or made it snow in the castle so they could build snowmen. 
> 
> But when Bucky thinks about his childhood, he mostly remembers that one fateful night, the night he’d panicked and frozen Steve’s head instead of the ground.

When Bucky thinks about his childhood, he mostly remembers how afraid he’d been.

He knows that there were good times—there must have been or else Stevie wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He knows that there were times when they snuck out onto the fjords or into the ballroom, times when he froze the water so Steve could go ice skating or made it snow in the castle so they could build snowmen.

But when Bucky thinks about his childhood, he mostly remembers that one fateful night, the night he’d panicked and frozen Steve’s head instead of the ground. He doesn’t complain when his parents choose to hide him away until he can control his powers or when they suggest keeping him from Steve until he can promise not to hurt him. He doesn’t deserve to be allowed to complain. He hurt _Stevie_ , his brother, the one he swore to protect above all others. He’s a monster; the vision the trolls had shown him is proof enough of that.

He doesn’t complain that the staff is reduced or that the gates are locked. He wears the gloves his father gives him. And when Steve knocks on his door and asks him if he wants to build a snowman, he rolls over and says, “Go away, Steve.”

The years pass: twelve long years of fear and misery and loneliness. Bucky’s rooms are always cold and often frozen with a light dusting of snow covering everything instead of dust. His meals are left in the hall to be grabbed when he knows the coast is clear. Sometimes, there are other things out there: a pile of books from the library, plush snowmen that get more and more detailed as the years go on, a card wishing him a quick and easy recovery. Bucky hoards everything he can, hiding the snowmen and the cards away so that his parents don’t know he has any contact with the outside world. The books, he reads and rereads until they’re frozen stiff and then he puts them back in the hall in the hopes that they’ll thaw in the warmth outside his room.

Sometimes, Steve knocks on his door, asking him to go and play and it breaks Bucky’s heart to tell him no every single time. It breaks his heart more when the time between knocks lengthens until, by his fourteenth year, they’ve stopped altogether. Never before has he been so tempted to step foot outside his bedroom. But he still remembers the way Steve’s hair went white, the way his small, frail body, so often sick, trembled in the cold. He can’t risk another accident like that, can’t risk freezing his heart this time instead of his head. Steve had gotten lucky when they were children. Bucky doubts he’ll be so lucky again.

And then he turns eighteen and for the first time in years, the halls are filled with the sound of laughter and yelling. He doesn’t know what’s going on—no one visits so no one tells him anything—for a good week, right up until his bedroom door slams open and someone darts inside.

Bucky nearly throws his book across the room, he’s so startled. He hadn’t even realized his door was unlocked. _Why_ was his door _unlocked_? Didn’t they know he could _hurt_ someone? What if it had been Steve who came inside? Steve who had already been hurt by Bucky once and didn’t deserve it to happen again.

But it’s not Steve.

It’s another boy, older than Steve but younger than Bucky, pretty like the princes in Steve’s book of fairytales, small and slender with the world’s biggest brown eyes the same color as the honey Bucky likes to add to his tea and fluffy curls that he wants to touch to see if it’s as soft as it looks. The boy seems just as surprised to see Bucky as Bucky is to see him, his red lips parting on a gasp.

For a moment, they stare at each other and then there’s the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. The boy throws a wide-eyed, terrified look at the door and then darts further into the room and squirms under Bucky’s bed.

“Hey!” Bucky protests, voice rusty with disuse.

The boy doesn’t come out but Bucky hears him whisper fearfully, “Shh, he’ll hear you.”

Bucky glances at the door. Someone pauses outside his room, yelling, “Tony! When I find you—”

But what he’ll do, Bucky doesn’t know because the man keeps walking and he doesn’t hear the rest of the threat.

He leans over the side of the bed and peeks under the dust ruffle. The boy is pressed against the far wall as far back as he can go, eyes fixed on the door to the room. “He’s gone now,” Bucky says. “You can—”

He stops, realizing that the boy is trembling. Bucky knows what it is to be afraid, has lived with it all his life. He’s afraid _now_ , afraid that he’ll hurt this boy who’s just as scared as he is. He swallows hard. _Please don’t make me hurt him_ , he prays and then climbs off the bed and joins the boy, curling around him to wrap him in his arms. This close, he can feel the minute tremors going through his body and he wonders just what that man has done to him.

“Why are you hiding?” he asks.

“Howard,” the boy says, so quietly Bucky almost misses it. “I broke something.”

“That’s not such a big deal,” Bucky says. Least, not compared to the things he’s done.

The boy shakes his head. “Howard said I wasn’t supposed to touch anything, not until the treaty is done.”

Bucky hasn’t heard of any treaty, not that that’s particularly surprising. No one ever tells him anything. “Why? What’s so special about the treaty?”

“I’m not Howard’s problem after that.”

“Whose problem will you be after that?” The boy flinches and Bucky realizes that was exactly the wrong thing to say. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the boy whispers. “I guess I’ll be Prince James’ problem.”

Bucky nearly loses control right then and there. The air starts turning frosty, so much so that he can see the boy’s breath puffing in front of him. He lets go of him hastily, thinking of all the times he accidentally froze whatever he was touching.

“It’s a _marriage_ treaty?” he exclaims, strangled in his distress. How has he not heard of this? He knows that his parents are frustrated with his lack of progress after more than a decade but to _marry_ him off? Who thought that was a good idea?

The boy nods. “Howard says it’s been planned since I was a baby but then he stopped hearing from King George twelve years ago. I think Howard planned to marry me to someone else but…” He bites his lip, turning away slightly. “But I never got any offers,” he finishes in a rush. “And Howard decided he couldn’t keep me any longer so we came to see what happened.”

“Why didn’t you get any offers? You’re _gorgeous_ ,” Bucky blurts out. He should never be allowed to talk ever.

The boy blushes, a pretty pink on his tan cheeks. “Thank you,” he murmurs. Then he taps at his chest and under his chest, something hard makes a dull thudding sound. “I’m cursed. A witch stole my heart when I was a baby to punish Howard for killing her son in battle. Mama found a fairy who could protect me but—” He stops again. “What am I going on for anyway? You probably know all about curses. Look at you!”

This time, it’s Bucky who flinches. There’s no condemnation in the boy’s tone but he’s heard it often enough in his own mind that he imagines it’s there anyway.

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” the boy says. “Howard says I’m too thoughtless to be allowed out and look at me. I only meant that your room is so cold but you’re not even wearing a sweater.”

“I’m not cursed,” Bucky says softly. The boy might as well know now what he’s getting himself into. “I was born this way.”

The boy gasps. “And they locked you away for that?”

“No, I—I hurt someone. It was an accident but he was still hurt. I have to stay here until I learn control.”

“How long ago was that?”

Bucky looks down. “Twelve years.”

The boy is silent for a long time, long enough that Bucky can’t stand it anymore and he has to look at him again. Much to his surprise, he doesn’t see any of the fear he’s expecting, only an odd mix of indignation and sorrow.

“…James?” the boy asks. He nods.

“But my brother calls me Bucky.”

“Anthony but everyone calls me Tony. Have you truly been in here all this time?”

“I never learned control,” he admits shamefully, closing his eyes against the tears that threaten to spill. He hasn’t cried about his situation in many years. He shouldn’t do so in front of his betrothed. _Conceal, don’t feel_.

Then warm arms are wrapping around him, pulling him close against Tony’s body. “I’m sorry,” Tony whispers. Something wet is on his cheeks and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Tony’s tears, not his own. He can’t remember the last time anyone cried over him. It’s always been about poor Steve. That’s the way it should be, shouldn’t it? “Oh my darling, I’m so sorry. I swear to you, Bucky, we’re going to get you out of here. I’m going to help you.”

He’s never had hope like this. It’s always been expected that he would be able to learn control without being taught, that all he needed was the willpower to control it and he could. But here Tony is, telling him that he doesn’t have to shoulder this burden on his own.

They lay there together in silence for a long while until Bucky’s side aches from being on the ground and Tony is shivering in the cold. “You should go,” he says eventually. He wants to keep Tony here with him forever but that wouldn’t be fair to Tony, who deserves to be in the sunlight and the warmth.

“I’ll come back tonight,” Tony promises as they slide out from under the bed. “With books and—I promise you, I’m going to help you learn how to control your magic.”

“And your curse?” Bucky asks. “Can it be broken?”

Tony smiles, something small and a little secretive. “Maybe,” he says. “We’ll see.”

He pauses at the door to wave at him before slipping out. The door closes shut behind him, leaving Bucky in the cold again. Except, maybe, just a little, the air doesn’t seem quite so cold as it had before.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is completed to the author’s satisfaction. I understand that many of you would like to see more of this story, but for now, this story is complete as is and will remain so unless I, the author, choose to write more.


End file.
